Galle
by Yorik
Summary: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself./ Through dense rainforests and dusty towns, along sandy beaches and shady paths, two unlikely people discover life. Touya x Tomoyo AU xxx ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters. To you retards out there, Sri Lanka exists, and NO, it is NOT a part of India.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

Notes: Galle is pronounced 'gall'. As in gall bladder.  
Ceylon is pronounced see-lon.

**

"Hey," she said, so I turned.

She was sitting on the concrete block that supported a canon, hair tied back in a thick French braid. Her eyes were shielded by expensive designer sunglasses. Aviators. It didn't matter anyway – I could never figure out what went on in her head. Her eyes were always expressionless. But I knew she was looking right at me.

For a moment we said nothing; all that could be heard was the gentle roar of the ocean, the crows flying overhead, the sea breeze, the laughing schoolchildren. She was wearing carefully-creased blue shorts and a white cotton t-shirt.

"I can't change it," she said suddenly.

"I know."

"Then why are you here?"

"To explain."

I turned away from her, and toward the sea. Was there a word that described this emotion? What about _words?_

Anger. Disappointment. Bitterness. Hurt.

Love?

"There's nothing to explain. We each got what we deserved. That's the end of it."

"You're not even curious?"

"Maybe, but I'm not stupid."

A pair of schoolgirls stopped by us to peer over the ramparts into the shallow pools below. The sea was clear and complacent. For once.

"I'm leaving the day after tomorrow. I think a clean break will be best for both of us."

"And your husband?" I say, with a poorly disguised sneer.

"Him too."

The humming wind and breaking waves fill in the space between us. Where did it come from? It was never there before…

…before.

"So, anyway, I won't be coming back here again."

"Ah."

Was there a word to describe this scenario? Closure? Fate? The end?

_No._

"I'm glad to have met you, Touya."

I didn't say anything to that, not even when she stood up and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters. To you retards out there, Sri Lanka exists, and NO, it is NOT a part of India.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

* * *

When did it begin?

Maybe it began a month ago, when we kissed for the first time? Or maybe it was six months ago, when I first met her? Perhaps it began long before any of that, decades, perhaps; a fate destined to pass from the moment we were born? But none of this is relevant until much later.

I'd come to Galle, Sri Lanka – old colonial Ceylon – for purposes of research. Call me sentimental, but after my father died I took up his passion for archeology and history. By the time I met her I'd already been there for three years, working on behalf of Tokyo University and travelling the country in hopes of unraveling its' complex and fascinating past. And how amazing is that country indeed?

In my years there, I travelled through the dense rainforest of Sinharaja, through the searing dry zones in the east, along the tempestuous coastline, up and down hills and plains. I swam in lagoons and drifted on coconut-husk rafts along the rivers. I went diving in Rumassala and whale watching in Mirissa. I climbed Adam's peak (_Sri Pada_ in the country's native tongue) the holy mountain. I studied the holy and ancient cities of Kandy, Kotte and Anuradhapura. I discovered Panadura and Katharagama. I shaved my head. I dyed my hands and feet. When I fell ill from ailments varying from malaria to indigestion I was revived by Aryuveda – ancient and traditional medicinal practices. I paid my respects to the oldest recorded holy tree in the world – a cutting from the Bo-tree under which the Buddha attained enlightenment.

When I thought of that country, and those places, and the people in it, I thought of life. I thought, _"This is how life's supposed to be."_ I thought, _"This is where I want to be, for the rest of my life."_

When I wasn't travelling, I was either in the country's commercial capital, Colombo, or in Galle, the biggest town in the south. Galle was beautiful. It oozed nostalgia and history, being one of the main harbors and sites of most of the country's life-changing developments, especially when it concerned the colonists. It was successively invaded and occupied by the Portugese, Dutch and British until as recently as 1948, when it finally gained independence.

But I digress.

As I mentioned previously, I first met her six months ago at a dinner party, hosted by our mutual friend, Dr. Van Kuilenburg. At the time, I had hectic schedule. I was always on the move, always travelling, so it was nice to have some free time for a change to spend with my friends.

It was a warm and blustery February evening. Van Kuilenberg's house was just outside town, on a lightly sloping hill surrounded by towering coconut trees and spring-green paddy fields. The sea breeze drifting inland was gentle and balmy, carrying in it the exotic scents that only a tropical island has. It was twilight when we all gathered; the stars were shyly making their first appearances in a soft, lilac-grey sky, and the sharp crescent moon gleamed silver. Venus burned bright by its' side, making me think of the symbol of the Islamic faith. I remember making a mental note to google its' meaning.

The table was set on the verandah with a white cotton tablecloth and silver cutlery. Mosquito coils and citronella candles were lit and placed all around us to ward away the insects. A fan was brought out. We all seated ourselves, laughing and joking about various things – politicians, flora and fauna, that new movie out in the only local cinema.

I spent most of that evening with the Doctor, a tall, balding man with tufts of hair growing out from his ears and bushy eyebrows. He had a sparse mustache across his upper lip and a slight hunch. He was burgher – a descendent from the Ductch-Portugese colonists – and eccentric to boot.

"Ah, Sonna-boy!" he cried, clapping me forcefully on the back, "when I was your age, all the girls used to come running after me!"

His wife, a majestic woman with tightly bound steely grey hair and eyes, seated adjacent, rolled her eyes, earning them sniggers from the guests. "What nonsense! You had to chase me for years before I had anything to do with you!"

"Aiyo, shut up, woman! You're just jealous!"

"Of what, your ear hair? Stop being an idiot, okay, just eat your dinner!"

"No, no, jealous of my wit and charm and popularity with the ladies!"

Here the Doctor gave me a surreptitious wink.

"Fool!" she cried theatrically, "I still meet Rosanne, you know, and she tells me ALL ABOUT you!"

"See?" he shouted triumphantly, clasping my hand, "They STILL talk about me, even after forty years-"

"She talks about how much of a bloody fool you were!"

"LOOK HERE-!"

And ad infinitum. But they were adorable, that eccentric pair, the Doctor waving his fork so hard that the meat flew into the maid's face and his wife wringing her hands at his lunacy. They really loved each other.

I think that when the time comes, I'd like to be old like them, these perpetual children, with their laughing eyes and warm personalities. But that may not be possible, for I am not a man who easily loves.

I noticed her only after dessert, while the other guests were still inside and having their after-dinner drinks. I'd escaped to the garden, shadowed and black, and was enjoying my solitude amongst the moist, sweet-smelling grass and trees, when she spoke.

"I see you've escaped as well."

I spun to face her. She was pale like a pebble. Her hair was as black as our surroundings, hung past her waist, and was held back by an ivory hair-band. She was wearing a simple white dress that fell past her knees, complimented by a string of pearls at her neck. Or were they faux pearls? I wouldn't know. I vaguely remembered hearing that natural sea-pearl harvesting was illegal. Wasn't it?

"Escaped?" I repeated, inquisitively, almost suspiciously.

She smiled. "From the noise."

No, from the tone of her voice I could tell she meant more than that. But I didn't know what to say. Should I ask her what she was implying? Who the hell she thought she was, barging in on my private thinking time? I focused again on her features, expectant of my answer.

"Ah," I decided instead.

"Cigarette?" she asked.

"Thank you."

We smoked our cigarettes in companionable silence before heading back to the crowd. In the dull glow extending from the open doors, when I snuck a peek at her face, I thought she was rather attractive. Aristocratic, high cheekbones, milky smooth, porcelain skin, hair as dark as night – the mental list I complied was rather to my fancy. She was also poised and collected; she literally oozed 'old money' from her pores.

For a moment, I wondered what her skin would feel like. I wondered if she found me attractive too. There was only one way to find out.

"By the way," I said, "I'm Touya Kinomoto."

"Tomoyo Daidouji," she said, taking my hand in hers with a faint smile playing on her lips.

And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters. To you retards out there, Sri Lanka exists, and NO, it is NOT a part of India.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

**

Our next meeting was roughly two months afterwards, in Colombo. It was at another party - the first annual dinner dance of the "Clean & Green" campaign. Though it's a general principle of mine never to attend the first annual anything, my friend and colleague Tsukishiro Yukito, who had been employed on the same contract as I, insisted that I accompanied him. The man hosting the party was the one who funded roughly 60% of all our restoration and research projects in Sri Lanka, and, Yuki advised me, it wouldn't hurt to kiss some ass.

"Besides, it's a party!"

"Whoopieee!" I said, sarcastically, slouched low in my seat.

Yuki frowned comically and bopped me on the head with his handkerchief. "Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud, To-ya! Everyone loves a party!"

"I got back from Kandy four hours ago! So forgive me if I'm not in the mood!"

"Nope! Never ever! Anyway, a party's exactly what you need. You work too much! You're a workaholic. And do you know what workaholics turn into? Spinsters!"

"And if you don't quit draping yourself all over me people are going to think that I'm gay too!"

"Ah, gomen, gomen!" chuckled Yuki, adjusting his mauve shirt and off-white trousers. "Do you think I should tie a scarf 'round my neck?"

"What for? Vampires?"

"You're such a tease, To-ya! Okay, tell me, this purple one, or this green one? Or maybe the orange one…?"

"How the hell should I know, I'm straight! And why have you brought so many!? And why are you doing this _now?!_ We're practically there!"

"So I'm a little disorganized," smiled Yuki, shrugging dismissively. "So what?"

"You're such a baka sometimes!"

"In the best possible way! Now, which colour?"

We were fast approaching the hotel driveway. I didn't want to spend hours with Yuki picking scarves to match his complexion. I said a random colour and hoped to hell he had it.

"Blue!"

Yuki sighed. "But I don't have blue, To-ya!"

"Fine, purple then!" I snapped irritably. "Shall we go?"

"Give me a second….there! Done! Right! Thank you!"

We stepped out of the taxi and Yuki turned to the driver. "And thank _you_, Sir," he said warmly.

"Eh," grunted the driver before taking off.

"_Such_ an agreeable man!"

I grinned. "Sarcasm? You _must _be in a good mood!"

"Oh, indubitably."

**

So there I was an hour later, mindlessly drinking myself into alcoholism in a discreet corner of the hall. How many glasses of wine had I had? I was never good with alcohol. People laughed at me when they discovered this, usually, because all Sri Lankan men are heavy drinkers, with great, swooping potbellies and enlarged livers. It's a thing of men, being able to hold your drink.

But I _am_ a man. This sort of stupid criteria doesn't change that. I think.

Anyway, I was doing my best to blend in with the wall behind me when I saw her. Her hair was up in a simple twist, and she was wearing a lilac chiffon dress that moved when she moved, drifting behind her like clouds, like air, and she walked like she was floating. Or maybe I was floating? Was it the wine? _Woah, Touya,_ I told myself, _don't step away from the wall or you might collapse! _But why did my conscience sound like Yuki? I was definitely buzzing.

I was content to watch her at first, that ethereal woman across the floor. Then I became restless. I wanted to go up to her, but my instincts told me that the wall behind my back was the only thing keeping me upright. But I wasn't restless for long. Eventually, she looked up and caught my eye. Then she excused herself from the women she was talking to – high Colombo socialites in too much make up – and made her way towards me, smiling sexily.

"You are entirely too antisocial," she murmured against the rim of her glass.

She was being far too seductive. How on earth was I to think straight with both heady wine and woman?

"I don't know anyone," I explained.

"I can fix that," she said.

"And I think I've had a bit too much wine."

She laughed at that, like they all do. But she was not condescending. After all, it's not like she knew how many glasses I'd had.

"That never stopped anyone," she smiled. "And by the way, those ladies want to know if you're married."

"Married?" I say aghast.

"For their daughters and grandchildren."

"Tell them I am."

"I will, Mr. Kinomoto."

"But for your ears alone, I'm still blissfully single."

An odd silence settled. "That's comforting," she murmured.

I looked at her sharply, but Yuki chose just that moment to accost us both. I could've strangled him with that pretty scarf that had plagued me during our taxi ride.

"Ah, To-ya! You've met Tomoyo!"

"We've met previously," she explained.

"That's nice," smiled Yuki. "To-ya is such a charmer!"

"He is indeed."

"Honestly, Yuki," I groan. But he ignored me.

"Do you know much about what we do?"

She shook her head. "No, but I have a feeling that you're about to tell me!"

Yuki chuckled. "That's right, I am! Well, we-"

I tuned out then. I had no idea why Yuki was assaulting us with work. Wasn't he the one who said that workaholics ended up spinsters? I watched the dancing couples spinning around the floor. Lots of the older women were wearing brightly coloured and shimmering saris, with the traditional six yards of cloth wound tightly around their bulbous bodies. The younger ones wore backless, strapless cocktail dresses. The designers all had short, dyed hair.

The hall was dim and romantic, glitter and glamour catching the light on individual ensembles and creating delicate patterns on the ground. Everything was blue and imitated late evening, what with the star-sparkles and moon-shining disco ball. I wished I was back in the jungle, or down at the beach. This place stifled me. I had nothing in common with these people, not even the ones whose asses I was supposed to be kissing. I wanted to go home. I was tired, my head hurt and brain was woozy, and I had to leave for Unawatuna the next morning, a six-hour journey that lasted eight hours by bus. I decided to leave then, but when I tuned back into the conversation, Yuki was still talking.

"-and I while I have to stay here for another couple of days, To-ya is going to Unawatuna tomorrow morning. You could join him, if you're interested."

"What?"

"Welcome back, To-ya!" laughed Yuki. "I wish you wouldn't zone out. It means I have to explain everything to him all over again!" he told Tomoyo.

"That is most irritating," she grinned.

"Pardon me," I said, with a sardonic bow.

"Anyway, Tou-kun, I was just telling Tomo-chan – you don't mind if I call you Tomo-chan, right? – about that coral restoration project we're overseeing in Unawatuna, and she thinks she may consider getting involved!"

"Oh?" I said, dumbly.

"Yup! So I told her she could take a look at things – if it's all right with you, Touya – and see if she's interested."

"Oh," I said, stupidly. "Yes. Alright."

"Lovely," she said.

"I'll give you our phone numbers, then?" suggested Yuki.

"Please. Here's my card."

"And here's ours!"

"I'll give you a call then. Thank you."

"Goodbye!"

As Tomoyo melted back into the crowd, Yuki signaled me for a high-five. He looked ecstatic.

"I don't see why you're so excited," I said.

Yuki looked at me incredulously. "Are you serious, Touya?! Do you know who Tomoyo is?"

I shrugged. I never knew who anyone was. In fact, just the week before I'd mixed up the names of a local politician's wife and mistress. Needless to say, they weren't very pleased with me. Or each other.

"Who is she, then?"

"She is second in command at Daidouji Enterprises! If she decides to fund us, then we can finally finish off at least two of our major projects! And then…and then!"

"…And then what?"

"Honestly, To-ya," said Yuki sternly, "don't tell me that you enjoy eating stale bread and curry every day, three meals a day?"

"Well, no, but I still don't see-"

"Money, To-ya! When we finish up, we can finally start getting some decent work! Not these slap-dash, half-arsed projects we've been stuck with! She may hire us! On fabulous salaries! And think about it, with money, you can finally-"

"-See my family."

"Yes! And even more than that?!"

"I can finally…be with _her_."

I didn't understand anything Yuki said except that it was a surefire way of being promoted and earning the big bucks we were in desperate need of. I wasn't a particularly money hungry guy – though stale bread and curry does tend to nauseate your tastebuds – but there were certain things, personal obligations, that I needed to take care of, and money was the only way to get them done.

Don't get me wrong – I loved my work. It was exactly what I wanted, to get down in the nitty gritty of it all and do my part for the planet. And I wanted nothing but to stay here, on this stupid, wonderful island, forever and ever, and grow old here. But the reality of the situation is always a lot harsher, a lot more different.

I loved my life here, but I had other things to take care of. And if manipulating Tomoyo Daidouji was what it took to do so, I thought, then so be it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

Chapter Four

***

The sky was dull and overcast when we arrived. The sea was grey like iron and the rising waves moved irritably, topped by frothy off-white caps. There was a storm brewing. I remember feeling annoyed – how could I have missed the signs? The air was humid and heavy, the winds had changed, and oppressive blackened clouds were gathering on the horizon. Needless to say, it was a complete waste of a trip. We could hardly snorkel around the reefs in weather conditions such as those. Tomoyo looked disdainful.

"Well," she said, "this is nice."

I grit my teeth and squared my jaw. The whole ride up had been close to unbearable. The only time she opened her mouth was to complain. Where was the charming woman I thought I'd met? Who'd put a harpy in her place? She was never satisfied. There was always something wrong. First, it was the van; then it was the breakfast I'd packed us. Next she decided to offer her professional opinion on the traffic, which she blamed me for. And it didn't stop. For the entirety of our ride down south.

I found myself longing for Kaho's company. She appreciated me. She accepted my lifestyle. And she didn't whine half as much. We could have had an amazing conversation about absolutely anything if I'd asked her to come instead. And, I don't think I would've felt close to exploding from pent-up rage. Why hadn't I asked Kaho? I was such an idiot! Somewhere a thought registered vaguely in the back of my mind that all of this was Yuki's fault. Oh, yes. And I was going to get him back. Nothing tasted sweeter than revenge on black days, with the exception of inflicting your mood on others.

Though I suppose waking her at two in the morning had probably been a bad move. And I don't think spilling water on her helped much either. Nor that breakfast consisted of gooey _kiri bath_, or milk rice, for which I'd forgotten to bring a spoon. And that I accidentally saw down her shirt. _And_ that the van stalled six times.

Okay, so in retrospect I suppose her bad mood was justified. But only partially! I hadn't ruined her day on purpose, and found it sorely unfair that I was stuck with a beautiful woman with a personality as appealing as cow dung. Were the irony gods out to get me? Was I the perpetual butt of all their cosmic jokes? I could have cried.

And here I thought I could get laid.

Her voice interrupted my thoughts, and its' cool tone sounded like nails on a chalkboard to my shattered peace of mind.

"So are we going to just stand here until the storm blows in? Or are we going to head into the hotel?"

The question was level and dripping in sarcasm.

"It's not a hotel," I said through gritted teeth, "it's a guest house. And it's the best we can do for now; _unless you want to drive around until we skid off the road and die,_" I added in an undertone.

"Pardon me?"

"I said: you're sure to be comfortable here, _Daidouji-san_."

"Hurrmph!" she exclaimed, "It looks unstable."

With that she cast her eyes towards the building, critically appraising the structure with a sweeping glance. She looked doubtful, tired and irritated, but dammit, she was a vision. She was the type of woman every other woman wanted to be – to have traveled for eight hours non-stop and still physically be unruffled. Everything was perfect, except that her skirt was a bit creased. Again I paused to lament the fact that I'd never shut her up long enough to get laid and get out.

"Well, are you coming or not?" she asked coolly, standing beneath the awning of the guest house, clutching her purse in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.

What a fabulous idea, I thought idly. A cigarette. Why didn't I think of that? Not only would it alleviate my stress, I could also use it to set her hair on fire!

I suddenly became aware that I was still standing by the van with a stupid expression plastered on my face akin to that of a man who'd spent a millennium talking to (or possibly even mating with) goats. I frowned then, to settle my features, grabbed our bags, and followed Tomoyo inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

Chapter Five

***

The rain was unrelenting. It assaulted the land in sharp, heavy pellets as thick, slate-grey sheets, biting the soil and sandy beaches. The coconut trees whirled angrily in their places. Everything from the seashore up until the horizon was in monochrome. It hurt my eyes. There was no sun. And to think it was still only midday.

Tomoyo was upstairs, settling into her room. I was at the bar, drinking pineapple juice. There was a pink umbrella affixed to my glass. I liked those cocktail umbrellas. They were fun. They made me think of my sister, who used to collect them for her Barbies.

I was tense and restless, but didn't know why. Or did I? Maybe I had pushed all the answers to the back of my mind, embedded them deep within my subconscious. Maybe I was in denial? But in denial of _what?_ That chance was not favorable to me? That _she_ didn't give a damn about whether I was alive or dead? (How come I couldn't say her name? Why did it irritate me so now, and not earlier?); that I was probably going to end up wasting my life waiting for a woman? No, but it wasn't a waste. Because we loved each other? Perhaps. But I didn't know. Or did I?

I hated the rain. It always made me think of things; remember things.

God, I was like a pregnant woman. The fact that I was experiencing mood swings was more irritating than the moods themselves. I was a _man_, for crying out loud. We were supposed to be the epitome of cool disregard and strength! And there I was, sulking over a pineapple juice – by far the most inappropriate beverage for brooding – in an attempt to muster all the gloom I could into a single, stormy afternoon. I was pathetic.

Why was I even there? I hadn't understood a word of Yuki's slapdash scheme – I'd only heard the key word – _money_. But how did money come into this at all? Okay, that was stupid. Money came into everything. But it wasn't immediate money. In fact, I realized, I was deriving no real benefit from bringing Tomoyo to Unawatuna. What the hell was I _thinking?_ What the hell was _Yuki_ thinking?!

But, I reasoned, neither had I lost anything from dragging her along. Aside from my sanity, that is, but that was only temporary. It was as easily curable as abandoning the source of my mental distress at that very guesthouse. But of course, I was too much of a gentleman for that. Anyway, I knew better than to bring her with me next time - If there was a next time at all.

The air was damp and reflected my mood, drenched in pathos, when she turned up. I was slumped across the bar, still seated in the wicker high stool, with my arms stretched out and hands dangling over the other side. My forehead rested on the cool, cement counter top. _Fuck __**you**__, weather. And __**you**__, Daidouji Tomoyo-__**sama**__. And __**you**__, stupid fucking-_

"Tell me you're not drunk on pineapple juice."

I turned my face towards the sound of her voice and raised a bleary eyelid. _Dammit_, I thought. She wouldn't even allow me to wallow in my cesspit of despair without interfering.

"What's it to you?" I asked, with poorly concealed grumpiness.

So-long, Yuki's plans for wealth and prosperity! What was that saying again? The best laid plans would never hatch? Or the best hatched plans would never lay? Or maybe it was something to do with chickens; something like: the best laid chickens will never gather moss?

Whatever.

"You _are_ supposed to be my guide, aren't you?"

"Hn," I grunted.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Are you alright?"

_Does it look like I'm alright!?_ Was what I _really_ wanted to say; instead, I replied; "Sure. Everything's just peachy."

"Why don't you have a nap?" she suggested.

"I'm sorry," I snapped waspishly, "but not everyone can afford $80 for a room they're only going to sleep in once."

I wanted to get away from her. She was so perfect; so charming, so incredibly _exasperating,_ that it made my head hurt. It was nothing a good one-night stand with the woman couldn't cure. But dammit, that was impossible. The knowledge of this irritated me even more.

She didn't say anything at first. Then she disappeared and I felt the puzzling anti-climactic sensation a person leaves behind when they don't react to an argument. That made me angrier _still_. Where was Kaho when I needed her?!

My face was smeared unattractively into the bar counter when she returned. She dropped a key next to it. My eyes traveled uncertainly to hers, and regarded her confusedly.

"Room no.5 is yours."

For what was not to be the last time, I had nothing to say.


	6. Chapter 6

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

Chapter Six

***

"I'm sorry about how I behaved this afternoon."

We were seated at a table on the beach. It was made from white, durable plastic; as were the chairs; and in its center was a small, candlelit lamp, burning with a faint, romantic glow. It was late twilight and the rain had only ceased an hour or so earlier. Tomoyo was a vision in an elegant, yet casual dress. I remained a scatty mess in jeans and a t shirt. It was not difficult for others to tell that we were worlds apart.

She smiled, and for a second (and a second only!) I forgot how infuriating she could be.

"I forgive you," she said, and the spell was broken.

_That's rich,_ I thought. _**She**__ forgives __**me**_. Hah!

She drained the last of her wine from her glass and reached out for the bottle to pour herself another. We'd been sitting there for roughly half an hour, and so far, she'd had four glasses. Already I had begun to see the telltale signs of intoxication – her flushed cheeks, her ready susceptibility to laughter, her relaxed posture – perhaps a little _too_ relaxed, I thought; though I suspected only I could tell. To everyone else she probably looked as poised and as unreal as ever. But intoxication suited her. Whereas her skin was usually almost sickly white, that evening she had colour in her face. And when she laughed she showed her teeth and the corners of her eyes crinkled. There was no show, no acting, no mask of perfection. In that moment, I was struck by a sudden jolt of realization that she was human, the same as the rest of us.

"Kinomoto," she said suddenly, "let's take a walk."

I was startled into confusion. "Walk?"

"Yes, along the beach."

"Sure."

"Lovely," she said, smiling too widely again (were her eyes slightly unfocused or was that merely a trick of the light, I wondered?). "Just give me a few minutes while I leave my purse back in my room."

"Of course," I said, bewildered.

At this she drew back her chair and rose to her feet. She swayed a little, but managed to steady herself before leaving me alone in the dim light of the fast approaching night.

That woman was a walking enigma. I'd've given a month's pay to know exactly what was going on in her head at a particular moment – everything she said was contradicted by what she chose to do next. She was a living, breathing paradox. First she acted like she hated me, then she wanted me to accompany her on a moonlit promenade along the bay. As I brushed my fingers over the surface of the cheap, plastic camera in my pocket contemplatively (why had I even brought that down?), I couldn't help but furrow my eyebrows. Something fishy was going on, and it smelt a lot like Tomoyo. But not in the literal sense, of course. This was probably the doing of the wine, I decided. There was no way Tomoyo would be so unguarded, so _agreeable_, otherwise.

"The madam's gone to the room?"

A voice interrupted my thoughts and looking up, I found Vijay, the manager, smiling kindly at me. A kind of mild panic made itself felt as I understood his tone.

Oh God, was that _pity?!_

"Yes," I said assuredly, sitting up straighter in an attempt to deflect his unnecessary sympathy. "She's just leaving her things behind. We're going for a walk," I explained, to emphasize that _no_, I hadn't just been ditched.

"Ah," he breathed knowingly. He then drew back Tomoyo's chair and took her seat. He regarded me with a solemn expression etched into his big brown face, and peered at me suspiciously as he fingered his well-trimmed moustache. Something told me I was in for a discussion I could probably live without.

"You've never come with another girl before," he began carefully, and I already knew exactly where our conversation was headed. "The other madam is…_ivarai?_ Over?"

"What?! No!"

At this Vijay's big brown eyes widened in a mixture of excitement and horror. Oh, the scandal! Oh, the decadence! He loved it! Realizing the fatal error of my ways (after all, I didn't want to end up being known as a notorious womanizing foreigner, which would lead to young girls and prostitutes being led to my premises and consequentially many, many embarrassing scenarios thereafter) I attempted to rectify the situation.

"We're here on business," I said stiffly, hoping that would satiate his curiosity.

"Ah," he murmured, a faint touch of disbelief about him.

What the _hell!?_ What's not to believe! I'm a virtuous man! I don't sleep around!!....like _that_.

"She is a potential investor," I explained, slightly desperate that he should not misunderstand.

"Ah," he said again.

Why was I trying to justify myself to the hotel – correction, _guest house_ - staff? Was I crazy? I stared into Vijay's eyes, and something akin to nervousness washed over me. My hands began to perspire. Jesus – was I being morally appraised by a complete stranger who seemed to be under the impression that everything about my personal life was his business?! Or worse, his town's business!? Oh shit, I was going to be blacklisted as a crazy womanizing foreigner! _NOOOooOOOoooOo!!!_

"I'm ready."

Tomoyo was back. I remember making a mental note to pray that night. Thank yous were in order to a certain 'big guy' up there for saving my ass. Or not? I sure as hell wouldn't be left alone with anyone's daughters after _this_.

Vijay stood and inclined his head to her politely, apologizing for taking her seat. They exchanged niceties before he took off, but not before telling me that I should probably be careful, and it took all my willpower not to throw my shoe at his retreating back, clearly visible in its white shirt in the fast-settling darkness.

"Be careful?" asked Tomoyo inquisitively.

"He was talking about attempting to dive in this weather," I lied.

"I see," she smiled, and again I was momentarily stunned. Emphasis on '_momentarily_'. **MOMENTARILY**. It's not like she had some sort of strange effect on me or anything.

The lights from the restaurant shacks on the beach were dotted in a constellation along the bay, standing out in the darkness like the stars in the night sky. The moon had just risen, and hung, suspended, like a milky- phosphorescent sliver against the blue black beyond. There was just enough light so as to make out the faint outlines of the trees. The sea was pleasantly warm and lapped hungrily at our feet as we walked. The sand squelched comfortably between our toes. The wind whirled Tomoyo's hair around her head until she looked quite normal and ruffled, so she tied it back. It smelt of salt and the ocean and the wave-battered rocks and dampness and the promise of a drizzle the next morning. It left our skin and hair sticky and wet and gloriously imperfect.

She laughed and dragged her feet against the sand, walking backwards to watch the sea reclaim her prints. There was something magical about her that night – she was like an excited child, reveling in new sensations. She threw her inhibitions to the wind and it quite threw me off guard to see her like that. (_It __**has**__ to be the wine,_ I told myself). I let her go on ahead of me and chose to watch her. Under the glow of the moon, her magnificent smile and the sparkling, restless water, she looked like an ethereal being. She could have been an angel. All I could do was stare. She was so pure, it took my breath away.

_So that's what she really looks like_, I remember thinking vaguely.

I slipped my cheap, soapbox camera out of my pocket, and immortalized that moment with a single click of a button.


	7. Chapter 7

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

A/N: Everyone who's reviewed – thanks! Sorry this story's dragging (and this chapter's slower than usual!), but I promise it will get a lot more interesting. It just takes a while to set the stage. Thanks for your patience! By the way, I'd really appreciate criticism. What do YOU think I should write about next? What did you feel I should have done differently? Your comments would be much appreciated!

..

Chapter Seven

..

..

"I'm sorry about how I behaved last night."

We were on our way back from Unawatuna. The scenery was nothing but a blur as we sped along the Galle road, lined with mangrove and coconut trees. The air was still balmy despite the looming black clouds stretched out over the face of the ocean.

I shrugged. What else was I to do? I couldn't offer thoughtful insight into her lack of control – and I couldn't be reassuring and say it was okay, because to her, it clearly wasn't. I wondered if I should say _something_, but spent so long deliberating that by the time I'd noticed, the moment had passed. So I stared straight ahead. Awkwardness settled in the air between us like a bad case of flatulence.

Minutes passed. There was nothing else to do besides admire the scenery. I snuck a glance at Tomoyo, whose head was turned towards the open passenger's window. The wind was blowing wisps of her hair around her head and it looked like they'd been charmed by static electricity. I bit back a smile. What a bizarre woman!

The sea was testy and unpredictable. The waves weren't massive, but they were aggressive. The grey ocean sucked them back into itself with more force than looked comfortable. I imagined the waves to have fingers; they dug them into the sand in defiance, only to get dragged off by the bigger body like a juvenile delinquent.

A car heading in the opposite direction flashed its' lights at us. I instantly slowed down. Tomoyo noticed and looked at me inquisitively. I merely nodded my head to our left – no other explanation was necessary, for sure enough we passed a cop, dressed in his official dung green uniform and checking his teeth in the rear view mirror of his motorcycle. Their main aim in life seemed to be arresting the drivers of speeding vehicles, and, considering the fact that we'd been going at about 80kmph, we were a sure target. Until the other car'd warned us, of course.

"Ah," she said, understanding.

We sped past tiny _kadés_ – shops – selling King Coconuts. The locals had another name for them – they called them _thambili_. I asked Tomoyo if she was thirsty.

"Yes," she said.

We stopped at the next one, and I felt my beloved van sigh in relief. We'd been driving for 3½ hours non-stop. Tomoyo stayed inside while I slid out of my seat, kicked the door open and headed to negotiate with the seller – the _kadé Mudalali_.

His kadé was a ramshackle construction made entirely from driftwood that looked like it could've been blown over by a sneeze. Sunset orange thambili were arranged in bunches on the ground in front of the entrance. They were about as large as a child's head and tapered towards one end.

"Keeyada?" I asked. How much?

"Panahai," He replied. Fifty rupees. That only amounted to roughly fifty US cents.

"Dekak," I said, holding up two fingers.

The Mudalali was a short, lean but built fellow with a slight paunch. He took the two thambili to a tree stump. He then tied up his sarong and pulled out a knife from his makeshift rope belt – it was about as wide as my hand and made me nervous. He proceeded then to hack at the top of the thambili he was holding, cutting the hard, orange shell away so he could make an incision from which we could drink. He repeated this process with the other fruit and, putting them into my hands, smiled toothily at me. His teeth were mostly rotten and stained red from eating too much _bulath_ – a combination of betel leaf and areca nut that, when combined with lime, gives you a pleasant buzz. Nevertheless they stood out against his earthen skin.

I carried the thambili back to Tomoyo. She looked at me questioningly. _How do I drink it,_ her eyes asked?

In response I handed one to her, placed my mouth over the hole in the top of the other and tilted my head back, taking the fruit along with it. The thambili was sweet and refreshing and ran down the sides of my mouth in little streams. It's a cloudy liquid, but its' texture is clean and smooth. It was perfect for the humidity, slow-boiling our blood in our skins. After a few chugs I took the fruit away and wiped my lips on the back of my hand. I turned to Tomoyo. She was horrified, and looking back and forth between me and the thambili as if we were both crazy.

I grinned. "Bottoms up!" I said, raising mine slightly in mock salute.

She mimicked my actions and brought it to her mouth. Then she grimaced. Then she tilted back her head, and chugged.

Naturally it spilt all over her. Naturally the Mudalali laughed heartily at her expense. And naturally, she looked like she was going to murder me; though her spluttering didn't do much to reinforce her intimidating image.

Soon enough, we were traveling again. I waited for a response – for her to say something, _anything_, but she stayed stubbornly silent. It was infuriating. I noticed I was associating that word with her a lot.

"So," I said in an attempt to make small talk, "have you been to Sri Lanka before?"

"Once," she replied distantly, "for two days. For a meeting."

"Oh. I see."

The wind rose to fill up the void between us and hummed pleasantly in my ears. Then it began to drizzle, so we put our windows up. I turned to look at her and caught her eye. Her face was expressionless; impassive. I figured this was all a part of her good breeding. Need I repeat myself? She was infuriating!

Still, I told myself, I mustn't be too hasty to judge. It _had_ been a rotten trip down. I felt oddly sympathetic.

"You hate it here, don't you?"

She looked startled. Since the windows were up there was nothing to fill the dead space. It was an awkward moment.

"Yes," she said finally, "I do."

"So then why're you here?"

A slight pause. "Business."

"Hmm," I said.

She was staring at the gloomy skies and splattering mud on the road outside.

"What's wrong with it, if you don't mind me asking?"

Another pause. "It's disgusting. It's dirty. It's…_primitive._"

"Primitive?" I repeated.

"Yes," she said, making a controlled effort not to let her irritation show. Then she rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, sighing.

"Forgive me, Kinomoto-san. I'm afraid I haven't been myself."

"I'd say you have."

She looked up sharply at that. Her eyebrows were knotted, and I could almost see the cogs in her head revolving. I had a feeling she was the type of person who seemed to calculate her every move; it was natural that she was displeased about her lack of inhibitions. But _still_ her good breeding persisted. She said nothing.

_ARGH!_ Said my brain.

We traveled the rest of the way in silence. When we finally reached her house on the outskirts of Colombo and her luggage (one bag) had been unloaded, she paused in front of me.

"Thank you," she said, extending her hand.

I took it. "Not at all."

"I wasn't joking earlier," she said suddenly. "I really am not like this."

I smiled. "Sri Lanka isn't so bad. It's not always at extremes – most of the time the weather is pleasant."

"If blistering heat is pleasant," she said, smiling a little.

"Some like it hot," I said, shrugging. I flexed my fingers agitatedly. Being optimistic left a funny taste in my mouth. What the hell! I was never optimistic! Could it have been that Tomoyo's negative energy was so potent that it was forcing me to be an optimist?! An alien sensation was making its' presence felt in the general region of the intuitive gut area. There was something was very, very wrong with the whole picture.

"So far my stay here's been a disaster," she said softly, with a strange, half-strangled chuckle.

"Well, you need to give this place a chance."

"Hmmn," she said, smiling politely. Such propriety.

_QUICK! SLAP HER! _cried my brain. I fought to dismiss the thought.

"Tell you what," I said, in a manner completely uncharacteristic of me, "I'll take you with me to Galle next week. It'll be worth it."

She smiled again. "I'll consider your kind offer. Thank you again, Kinomoto-san."

"Anytime," I said, and was surprised when I realized that I'd meant it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

Chapter Eight

***

**Extract from the diary of Daidouji Tomoyo  
Present Day**

Dear E,

Has your heart ever hurt? Has it ever throbbed dully, with an ache that doesn't seem to subside? Have you experienced that slow, lingering pain? That which makes you want to clutch your chest and rip your heart from it? That which makes you think you'd do anything to ease your discomfort, even if it meant selling your soul to the devil?

I remember the first time I ever felt like this. I was sitting on my bed with the phone cradled in my hands, listening to the dial tone. You'd just hung up.

"We can't do this anymore," you'd said.

"Why?" I'd asked.

You became angry and shouted. "What do you expect from me, Tomoyo?"

You were my best friend at the time. You should've been able to answer. But you treated me like a stranger. Like someone else.

I remember not sleeping well for months afterwards. I remember the pleading phone calls, I remember your rejection. I remember the hurt and the confusion.

I remember all this.

It took me so long to get used to not having you around. To not having you psychoanalyze me. To not having your seductive, British drawl tickling my ear. You used to pretend you were James Bond, remember?

But I got used to it. And I moved on.

And I thought, _'well, at least that's over and done with.'_

For a while, I was right. There were others. Many others. I had my fill. I used to wake up next to them, wondering what they thought of me. I used to wake up feeling lonelier than when I'd collapsed beneath the weight of their lusting bodies; lonelier than when I'd writhed in anticipation of a climax that very rarely satisfied me.

But still, I justified it. At least that way, I was safe.

But then I met him.

And I thought, _'He can't hurt me.' _

I thought, _'I won't get attached.'_

But now the most vivid picture in my mind is of that lazy, sunny day spent at his annex in Galle. I remember watching the curtains blowing in. I remember us, sprawled out across his bed, tangled in its' white sheets. The sun was soft and butter yellow, and picked up the highlights in his dark hair. His brown eyes were warm and teasing. His mouth was smiling.

I remember watching the light play in his eyes. I remember noticing that faintest tinge of green. I remember the width of his shoulders, the slope of his neck. I remember the feel of his bronzed skin on mine, so ugly and colourless in comparison. I remember the roughness of his hands, of his long surgeons' fingers, of his stubbled chin.

I remember the smell of the tangy sea air, of his hair, of the _rottis_ drifting in with the breeze. I remember the taste of his mouth, like late afternoon sex. I remember the sound of his voice, husky and rumbling and gentle. I remember the goosebumps on my arms. I remember how he laughed and rubbed them away. I remember the way he murmured my name.

I remember the way he rolled me onto my back and hovered over my lips. I remember him coming down to meet me. I remember arching to meet him halfway. I remember his kisses, and the way they made me giddy and light-headed and exuberant and made me feel like I was floating and I remember thinking _'I love you.'_

I remember thinking, _'Shit.' _

I remember watching the sun later that evening set deep into the ocean like a lone red eye closing. He told me that the sun was going to sleep so we probably should too. But we didn't move a muscle and stayed seated on the sand. He never let go of my hand for a minute.

Why does everything have to change?


	9. Chapter 9

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

Chapter Nine

***

It was early afternoon, and I was having lunch with Kaho. We were seated on white, iron-wrought chairs on her balcony eating cucumber sandwiches.

We'd just had sex and her husband wasn't home.

She'd draped herself in the bed linen, and it dragged behind her on the floor. She had auburn hair that reached her collarbone – it wasn't red and it wasn't brown – and she had a sharp figure, for want of a better word. He breasts were big and her shoulders were slightly too broad for them. Her hips protruded too much and they used to hurt me when I thrust too hard. Her neck was long and her jaw was prominent. Her chin was sharp. Her legs and arms were a little too skinny but her height made up for it. Kaho wasn't physically perfect, really.

But she had the most beautiful, honey-brown eyes.

"Touya?"

"Hmn?" I said.

"You're drifting off with a silly smile on your face again."

I looked up at her and grinned. "I can't help it."

She placed her hand on mine fondly.

"When can I see you again?" I asked.

Her brows knotted. "I'm not sure. He was talking about going on holiday."

"I see. And what about-?"

"Touya," she interrupted gently, "you know my answer."

My stomach squirmed uncomfortably. The heavy silence that followed was filled with the sound of traffic floating up from the main road. I watched the lipstick-red hibiscus flowers on a nearby tree sway in the breeze.

"I don't understand."

"I can't leave him. There's too much at stake."

"But what about _us?_"

There were three crows on a telephone wire stretching above our heads. They cawed noisily and were eyeing our sandwiches. I instinctively drew the food closer to me.

"I have to think of my family, Touya. And the business. And _him_ too. He doesn't deserve to be hurt."

"But what about _you _and _your_ feelings? What about _me?_ Don't you want to be with me?"

She sighed. "I want nothing more than to be with you. But I can't – at least, not now."

I pulled her on to my lap and buried my face in her neck. "_Why?_" I asked. She smelt of _her_ – she had a unique fragrance all her own, hidden under some very expensive perfume.

She drew back so she could look into my eyes. Her own were calm, as they always had been. She was never unruffled, even when she cried (how was she able to do that?!). I felt my heart stir. Even though she told me many things, she never told me everything – and I couldn't force her to tell me either. I wondered just how much I meant to her. Sometimes I doubted the sincerity of her words, but I always reprimanded myself.

Because she _was_ sincere, I can say that even in retrospect.

But sometimes, even though I knew she was waiting for me, I couldn't help but feel so **alone**.

"Oh," she sighed, brushing her lips against mine, "if only life weren't so complicated."

"Yeah," I murmured. "If only."

"I wish I could explain. I wish I-"

"Don't worry about it," I said.

"Give me some more time. Please."

"Okay."

We held each other until it was time for me to go home. Leaving Kaho was always hard because I never knew when I'd be seeing her again. But she kissed my face and told me that she loved me. The crows on the telephone wire only watched as I let myself out of her gate, and set off down the lane.


	10. Chapter 10

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

Chapter Ten

***

I wasn't expecting her to call. To tell you the truth, I'd forgotten all about her. My mind was too full of Kaho and our situation to think about anything else. But call me she did, at three o'clock in the afternoon, two days before I was due to leave to Galle.

"Kinomoto," she'd said.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Erm, who?" I asked, pretending not to recognize her voice and being fairly alarmed by the fact that I did.

"Daidouji Tomoyo."

"Ah. Hello."

"I'm coming with you."

"Sorry, what?"

"I said - I'm coming with you. To Galle."

"Oh. Um. Alright."

"Am I inconveniencing you?" she asked politely, though I knew full well she didn't give a flying fuck.

"No," I lied. "Not at all."

"Excellent. I trust you'll be picking me up?"

"At four AM in two days time."

"Alright. I'll see you then."

Then she hung up. I remember feeling irritated that she hadn't said goodbye. That stupid woman and her stupid airs and graces. Who the hell did she think she was - the Queen of stuck-up-bitch-land?

Still, I figured that going to Galle with company – no matter how repulsive – was better than going alone. At least she'd keep my mind off Kaho. Anyway, I reasoned, Yuki would be there too – I could always make him babysit.

An evil grin slowly spread across my face as I reached for the telephone.

In the distance, a lone radio played forlornly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

Chapter Eleven

***

**Extract from the diary of Daidouji Tomoyo**

**April**

Dear E,

We had another argument. I don't know why I even try sometimes – he never has time for me. Always work, work, work. But I'm not stupid. I know he sees other women. My point is – if he has time for them, then why not me? For Christ's sake, I'm his _wife!_

I don't know why I even try. It's not like I love him or anything. I guess it's just duty – something ingrained in me since I was born. It's your duty to do _this_, Tomoyo. It's your duty to do _that_. It's your duty to go to the supermarket and bring me tampons, dammit! To save the world from global warming! To instigate world peace! TO FIND A CURE FOR CANCER!

I should have rejected the proposal when I had the chance. I shouldn't have cared about my mother. I should have done something for _me_, for a change.

Oh, E – everything's so _wrong_.

I was going to stay home this weekend, to try and work things out for once. Maybe talk a little. Maybe we could have learned to love each other, who knows? He's never given me a chance. I feel like I've married my uncle.

Urgh. I'm an uncle-fucker.

GONE is the virginal maiden, with her round, hopeful eyes and silver-gold dreams! But where to? And who's put this cynic in her place?

I wish I knew myself, E.

I wish I knew what to do next.

How do people become wise? Are they born like that, or is it something begotten from experience? Or are they really not wise at all? Is it passed down by word of mouth from mother to daughter, generation to generation, like Nordic legends?

How come I have none of it?

DAMMIT! I refuse to let this bother me. I don't care that he's out with his hookers. I don't give a damn about the family name. Or the company. Or anyone or anything.

I'm going to do something stupid, E. Something daring. I'm going to bloody exact my revenge! He's not the only one who can mess about! I'm not unattractive! I'm not unintelligent! I HAVE VOLUPTUOUS BREASTS AND WIDE, CHILD-BEARING HIPS! Men will fall at my feet! They will worship me! And I'll cry "HA!" and there he'll be, lonesome and dejected.

I don't want to be alone anymore.

I have to get out of here.

I think I'll take Kinomoto up on his offer.

Who knows, maybe I'll even sleep with him? Run away with him! Live happily ever after and have lots of pink, fat, squealing pig-babies running around our family home!

On second thought – no. He'd probably talk about the mating habits of whales while he's orgasming.

Oh, E – there are no more tears to cry, even though I want to.

I feel so alone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Galle**

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or its' characters.

Description: And by that simple gesture induced by innocent, curious lust, I had no idea how much trouble I'd caused myself. Touya x Tomoyo

Chapter Twelve

***

I have an annex in Galle just outside of town. It's on a hill called Rumassala, dotted with tiny houses. It's a bit of a jungle, but it's perfect for me. There are looming jak trees, their trunks burdened with heavy fruit, all olive-green and covered in dull spikes. You also find teak, durian, banana, and tall, tall banyans, with drooping snake-vines that leave your palms itching with the desire to play Tarzan. Rumassala leads down to a secluded cove that's only recently become popular amongst traveling students.

"It's great to be back," I said, slipping Tomoyo's bag off my shoulder and onto the cement floor of the tiny verandah.

We had just reached Galle, and Tomoyo had brought enough luggage to last until the apocalypse. The sun was rising placidly in the sky, which was a lovely, velvety shade of blue. The timid twittering of birds around us was the only audible sound aside from our voices.

"Phew!" panted Tomoyo, "what a walk!"

She was wearing well-creased beige trousers and a white shirt. Her hair was tried back. She eased herself gently into a chair.

"It's good for you," I said cheekily.

"Oh, hush. Not everyone's as fit and outdoors-y as you, Kinomoto!"

Her face was slightly flushed and lips lightly parted. Some strands of hair fell into her eyes, which she pushed away using the back of her hand. She looked entirely too enticing, like she was out of a porno. Not like Kaho, who was both fit and graceful and outdoorsy and indoorsy all at the same time.

Kaho.

My chest throbbed dully. I did my best to block it out with laughter that sounded hollow to my ears. So long as I distracted myself with Tomoyo, there was less of a chance of dwelling on issues that I didn't want to dwell on. Like Kaho. And her stupid ponce of a husband.

"Have you anything to drink?" she asked.

"Erm. Sunquick?"

"I don't care, so long as it has alcohol in it."

"Sorry, Daidouji. It's only orange cordial."

She glared at me. "Do you never entertain?"

"I don't, actually. I've only ever brought three people to this house."

"An assortment of lovers?"

"Yuki wishes."

She laughed.

"And the other two?"

"None of your business, you nosy woman!"

I led her to the bathroom then, to take a shower. I was in a considerably good mood. Tomoyo was far more agreeable than I'd given her credit for – and far less stiff and uppity than she'd been the last time I'd met her. She had only complained in jest, if at all, about my clothes ("Frightful things, those jeans. They look old enough to be a family heirloom."). And she'd smiled at me – not quite as openly as that night on the beach, but it was certainly a lot less guarded than before.

Our also conversation flowed a lot easier, and ranged from philosophy ("Am I smoking this cigarette or is the cigarette smoking me?") to fashion ("I'll burn those jeans, if you give me a chance") to wildlife ("I'm telling you, those skinny little leggy girls you find at nightclubs nowadays who are all sleeping with each other and pretending to be lesbians are all underage!").

She'd even insisted that she didn't need to stay at a fancy hotel; that she'd be just as comfortable roughing it out the spare room.

"I can manage without my air conditioning and stuffed peacock for lunch, you know."

"We're just by the sea. Believe me, it's better than _any_ air conditioning."

I had no idea what had spurred this change in her attitude towards me, but I decided that I liked it.

"Kinomoto?"

I spun round and almost knocked her flat. She'd stepped out from the bathroom, slipped comically on the rug, and been unable to stop herself until she was too close.

"Whoa!" I said, grabbing her arms so she wouldn't fall.

"Oof!"

"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice oddly low and husky.

"I think so," she laughed nervously, leaning her forehead against my chest in relief.

Then the mood changed. We both stiffened.

I was suddenly incredibly aware of her. I could feel the heat emanating from her body, could smell her sweat mingled with the scent of her shampoo. I involuntarily found myself inhaling deeper. The air around us was charged. She uncurled her fists and placed both palms, spread open, on my chest. It was as if they burned me. I wanted to touch her. My hands moved down the length of her arms, brushing against the sides of her breasts, making her shiver.

She looked up, then, into my eyes. I felt my face grow warm. I wondered what she was thinking. My brain was shutting down. Now would be a great moment to kiss her, I thought.

But I couldn't. Because Kaho's weary, smiling face suddenly popped into my mind's eye.

I steeled my resolve. I cleared my throat and forced myself to take a step back.

It was as if she suddenly remembered herself. I could see the shock in her eyes, her disbelief at her own actions.

For a long moment, there was silence. When she finally spoke, her voice quivered a little.

"Um. I wanted to ask you…um. For some…soap."

"Oh." I said. "Of course. Sure. Hang on."

We avoided each others' eyes for the rest of the morning.


End file.
